


One Kink at a Time

by outsideth3box



Series: One Kink at a Time [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Alcohol, Alien Planet, Biting, Drunkenness, Humor, Kink, M/M, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outsideth3box/pseuds/outsideth3box
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/17155">Little Black Dress</a>, wherein Rodney learns something new about John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Kink at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** [](http://darkhavens.livejournal.com/profile)[**darkhavens**](http://darkhavens.livejournal.com/) She is wonderful and she also gave me the title. All hail.  
> **Wordcount:** 1,805  
> Contains biting, but not to draw blood.   
> Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, no infringement intended, for enjoyment only.

"It could have been shi- citrus, it's bright orange, and it has pulp!" Rodney's face is flushed with affront, his voice wobbling drunkenly, arms flailing with indignation.

"It's not pulp, Rondey." John clears his throat. "Rod. Ney. It's shedi- sendi- sediment."

Emphasizing his point with a shake of his glass, John manages to splash not-citrus liquor into his lap, where it seeps invisibly through his black BDUs and into his boxers and he groans forlornly over sticky, double-layered discomfort.

John stands, fumbling with his belt one-handed, and flounders across the room they've been given for sleeping off the harvest celebration, to sit on the bed and wrestle with his pants until he finally realizes it would all go faster, smoother, if he puts his glass down.

Meantime, Rodney is caught between his ongoing declamation that the Sahrenans are trying to personally, individually, kill him with poison, and his unstuck guffaw-potential over the hilarity of John's soggy disrobing predicament.

Eventually John untangles his lower limbs and works his way out of the clammy trousers more through pure tenaciousness than any remaining shreds of coordination. Once that benchmark has been passed, he drops back flat onto the blankets, feet still on the floor and huffs out a put-upon sigh aimed at the keening cackle from Rodney's chair in the corner.

"I'd like to shee you try it," John pouts, waving a futile hand at the drink left forsaken on the side table.

"I've never yet had any trouble," Rodney manages between chuckles with a crooked leer, "getting you out of your pants."

He up-ends the dregs of his drink, swallowing loudly, and snags the ceramic jug from the table with the hand that isn't trying to tip the last three drops into his mouth. The unfortunate combination overbalances him and he goes down, fast and hard, on his ass on the wooden floor.

It's John's turn now to hoot and howl at the eaves, knees pulled up to his ribs, not even trying to hold back. Rodney thrashes to unsteady hands and knees and decides that three points of stability is better than two, basic physics, and crawls across the floor toward the bed, pushing the jug with one hand and abandoning his glass altogether.

Climbing, ungainly and definitely listing to the left, up onto the bed, where John is still hee-heeing, Rodney plunks the jug down onto his lover's belly in revenge and furthers his antagonistic goal by snatching it away again to get his slug first straight from the source.

John hauls himself up the bed to lean against the beautifully scribed headboard, reaches down and pulls a pliant and giggling Rodney up between his spread legs and positions him against his chest, warm and heavy.

Snuffling into Rodney's hair and nosing his ear, John mumbles, "I like this," into Rodney's bare neck.

"You're a closet snuggler, eh?" Rodney shivers, goosebumps popping in the wake of John's breath. "What else do you like? Tell me aaaaaaalllll your kinky secrets."

"Kinky, huh?" John steals the liquor jug and takes a swig, passing the bottle back when Rodney makes grabby hands at it. "Hmmm. Biting. I like biting." A little demonstrative nip at the skin just below Rodney's ear is not out of order.

"Oh! Oh my. That's. *Ahem.* Yes, I can see... giving or receiving?" Rodney's whole body shudders in John's arms and John bends his head forward and whispers, with a hot puff of breath, "Both."

Rodney twists to slide the jug onto the side table and smacks a sloppy kiss to the corner of John's mouth. "Mmmm, we can do that," He says, and squirms and shifts until he is satisfactorily wrapped in John's long limbs, snuggles his head down softly on John's chest and drifts off. John nuzzles Rodney's hair again, the scent of his lover warm and comforting in the strange surroundings, blows out a soft, happy sigh, and follows him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John wakes up certain that the rumbling he hears is each individual brain cell yelling, "Fire in the hole!" preparatory to violently exploding. The rest of him feels pretty much like he slept all night face down in a sand pit with a dirty boot in his mouth, and he has a truck parked on his bladder, revving its engine.

By the time he knuckles his eyelids apart the revving sound is familiar and yes, the truck is Rodney, who wriggled down John's body during the night and is lying with his face mashed into John's naked belly, snoring into his navel.

"Hey," John croaks, his parched throat barely managing a whisper. He reaches out an index finger and pokes Rodney in the head, tries again. "Hey." Another poke.

"Mmmmph, what? Oh, ow!" Rodney lifts his head, squinting, and ducks it down again, raising his hands to his temples as if to hold them in place. "Ow, ow, ow." He stares. "How do you have morning wood? You can't tell me you aren't in pain, too."

"Somebody forgot to tell my dick. If you move off me, I'll go get some aspirin out of my pack."

"Aspirin. Water. Death. Yes, please," Rodney moans, tilting slowly onto his side.

John is back before Rodney opens his eyes again. "Aspirin. Water. I had first dibs on the death, but I couldn't find any, so we'll have to live."

He takes back the empty glass from Rodney and sets it on the side table, then pulls his lover up into his arms, raises his face for a deep kiss. "Experience tells me that endorphins can knock out a headache."

Leaning in for another kiss, Rodney reaches to unbutton John's shirt. "You're even irresistible to the bass drummer in my head. Help me out of these clothes."

The divestment process manages to not quite become a debacle, regardless of the grunting and huffing and elbows involved. Rodney forces John out of bed again so they can pull back the covers and crawl inside, where he immediately wraps himself around John like he grew tentacles in the night. John double checks the number of limbs grasping him, just in case.

Rodney nuzzles the juncture of John's arm and shoulder, stretches up to lick a warm stripe across the hollow below his collar bone, rubs his stubbly cheek against the protrusion and then bites down on the patch of tanned neck just above the bone, worrying the muscle with a little growl.

"Mmmmm, you remembered," John hums, and bares his neck to Rodney's toothsome ministrations.

In response, Rodney closes his teeth on the taut flesh of John's shoulder, eyes widening at the outbreak of goosebumps that travels down John's arm, watches his fist clench where he's clutching at the sheet. They are wary of leaving marks in visible places, so he wriggles down, trades his prize for a spot on John's chest, licking and nipping before latching on tight. John relishes the small circle of pain and heat from Rodney's mouth.

"Ohhh... that's good, Rodney."

He chooses another spot beside John's nipple and sucks it into his mouth, teeth scraping gently, then grips it snugly as John sighs, squirming just a little, and John can feel his cock painting a thick, wet line along Rodney's hip. When he lets go, Rodney stares at the ring of red dots and unconsciously rubs his hardening cock against John's leg. He soothes the mark with licks and kisses and turns to the pink nub of John's waiting nipple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, watching it crinkle and swell.

When he opens his mouth and covers the dark knot, closes his teeth around the areole and tightens, slowly, on the flesh, John writhes beneath him, hips thrusting up against Rodney's belly, head thrown back, wanton and flushed.

Heat spills from the reddened bites into every crevice, filling John with sensation and liquid, shuddery pleasure, making his skin burn with want and his muscles lax. He never expected this, not this enthusiasm and passion. Rodney still surprises him, even after all this time, the level of acceptance for all things John that Rodney possesses looses a thrill in his chest that lets John fly.

The next touch of Rodney's teeth is lower, just above John's navel, light and delicate, more of a scrape than a bite. Then Rodney ducks his head and fastens his teeth onto the jut of John's hip, wraps his hand around John's leaking erection and starts to stroke, bearing down in slow increments with his jaws.

John can feel every tooth, a pressing circle of bright shards zinging directly to his cock, where Rodney's hand is pumping bliss in overlapping waves through his body. It all blends and merges deliciously, Rodney's weight on his thighs, the pleasure building between his legs, the glowing, throbbing pain of the bite on his hip and when it all explodes, John's muscles clench, sending him rigid with ecstasy, howling, head back and spurting thick white stripes over his own chest.

As soon as John opens his eyes he sees Rodney sitting up between his spread legs, fisting himself vigorously, staring at the wet mark left on John's hip. He grabs Rodney's shirt from the floor and swipes at the mess on his chest then sits up, grasping Rodney's free hand and bringing it close, brushing his fingers over the bite mark around his nipple; Rodney moans and his hand flies faster.

John leans forward, gripping Rodney's shoulder and licks at his left nipple with the flat of his tongue, rubbing, gentling the tender skin, feeling the nub harden under his touch. Remembering Rodney's own actions, he closes his teeth on the lush flesh around the nipple, biting down gently but firmly, and shakes his head slightly, feeling Rodney's breath freeze in his chest. Rodney throws back his head and comes, roaring, with his hand in John's hair, pressing his head down harder into the bite, shaking with pleasure.

Even collapsed on the bed on his side, panting, Rodney is still scarily observant.

"You rotten bastard, that's my shirt you're making a mess of!"

"Oh go ahead, try to tell me you don't have an extra t-shirt in your pack. You have silverware in there, for god's sake."

"Not all native people we meet are fond of eating utensils!"

"You're bringing my headache back."

Rodney flails and squirms until he is lying side by side with John, grinning mischievously.

"Need some more endorphins? Because that was great!"

"Yeah? You liked... you liked?" John blushes deep red and rubs his face awkwardly.

Rodney leans forward and nips John's lower lip gently. "Yeah. Liked. Lots. Now you have me wondering what other fun kinks you're hiding that I'm not going to find out about until next time you're falling-down drunk."

"No way." John grins slyly. "Next kinky revelation is all yours."

  



End file.
